Team Canada
by GreenEvans
Summary: OIympics 2014 AU: Oliver Queen is the captain of Canada's hockey team, the reigning gold medalists, and Felicity is Team Canada's reigning bronze medalist in figure skating. They never got along so why is Oliver Queen showing up to her skating events and why is Felicity Smoak coming to the hockey games?
1. Chapter 1

** Tumblr prompt: ****OIympics 2014 AU prompt: Oliver Queen is the captain of Canada's hockey team, the reigning gold medalists, and Felicity is Team Canada's reigning bronze medalist in figure skating. They never got along so why is Oliver Queen showing up to her skating events and why is Felicity Smoak coming to the hockey games?**

**Note: I'm from the LA area. And while it did get quite cold where I grew up, I know exactly zilch about ice skating and related activities. Basically everything I know I've learned from watching **_**The Mighty Ducks **_**trilogy.**

* * *

Felicity Smoak glided onto the ice, eager to get a feel of the rink. The figure skater had arrived in Sochi yesterday with the rest of the Canadian team and had been anxious to get back to her practice routine.

Despite the twenty plus hours on the plane, the multiple stops, and the fiasco that was their hotel accommodations, Felicity felt loose and limber and ready for her events.

She had just finished her warm up and was beginning to practice portions of her routine when a banging of the door and a commotion caught her attention. Felicity paused, annoyed, skidding to a stop to stare at three burly men coming down the steps toward the edge of the rink. Their red and white jackets with a hockey player silhouetted on the maple leaf indicated their interest in the ice, but hockey players had their own arena. Why were they bothering her?

The trio drew closer, allowing her to identify the man in the lead. "Ugh, Queen," she thought, rolling her eyes. That made the other two Roy and John, the one they called Digg. It also meant she wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Shaking her head, Felicity continued her routine, skating toward the opposite end of the rink.

Much to her irritation, she noticed the boys taking seats in her peripheral vision as she practiced her jumps. To her greater annoyance, one of her routine segments ended less than ten feet from where they sat.

"Nice moves," Oliver Queen called. She turned toward him, her face illustrating her lack of amusement. His blonde hair was longer than she last saw him, his face scruffy, his teeth straight and white in his smile. He was aggravating in his attractiveness. He should have just stayed the awkward teenage boy from their hometown; then his ego wouldn't have inflated so much.

"What do you want, Queen?" she asked exasperatedly. She saw Digg hide a smile behind his hand, while Roy looked bored. At least they understood the lack of relationship here.

Oliver shrugged. "Just checking out the facilities," he commented airily.

"Your facilities are next door," Felicity pointed out. "Stop bothering me."

She turned to skate away when his voice called after her. "If you drop half an inch before your jump, you'll stick the landing smoother." She ignored him; what would _he_ know about figure skating. Annoying dart.

She practiced her turns until she heard them leave, wondering why he had stopped by in the first place. Roy and Digg had just followed him, probably out of boredom, probably because they're all best friends, but why had Oliver led them there at all? It's not like he and Felicity were friends. Far from it. Oliver Queen and she had been butting heads since their first ice skating lesson.

He had been a stupid boy full of energy, always goofing off, never quiet, never holding still, always causing a distraction when all she wanted to do was learn to skate. And he had been infringing on that learning. So when he wouldn't shut up she had knocked him down. He hadn't been hurt, and it made him keep quiet for the rest of the lesson (it didn't help matters that she hadn't gotten in trouble either). But from then on it had been a battle of wills between the two of them.

School had been no different. It irked her to no end that they grew up in the same town and went to the same school. Thankfully he was a grade ahead (if she hadn't been so damn smart it would have been two) so there had been one glorious year without sharing a campus.

It would have been just her luck that they both made the Olympic teams for their sports. She hoped the hockey team was in a different hotel.

Finishing her turns, she moved to practicing jumps before ending with spins. Oliver's stupid words rang in her ear. _If you drop half an inch…_ Why was he paying that much attention to her jumps? Why was he giving her advice? He always was an obnoxious know-it-all.

Coming into her next jump, Felicity decided she would try his advice just to prove him wrong. Then she could throw it back in his face. Skating backwards for her Salchow, she dropped an extra half an inch before her jump, pushing off with her left skate, rotating in the air and landing smoothly on her right leg.

She glided to a stop. He had been right. The bastard had been right. "Shit!" she swore loudly, skating off the ice.

* * *

Felicity felt like she was on Cloud 9. She had just finished her qualifying preliminaries and she _knew_ she was moving on. She'd skated so near perfection she was sure her coach had cried. She had been expected to do well in this Olympics, but after that round, she could feel it in her bones.

She stepped off the rink to congratulations from her fellow figure skaters and coaches. When they had all backed away to watch the next competitor and she stood from removing her skates, she saw him standing nearby with his teammates.

"You skated really well," Oliver said, hands stuffed in his pockets and looking like some carefree model for a winter gear catalog.

"How did you know?" Felicity glared at him. It bothered her how much he towered over her, especially when she was in her bare feet.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It causes your leg muscles to contract more efficiently to generate more strength to more effectively propel your body weight."

She stared at him, eyebrows arched. "Why are you helping me?"

"Why shouldn't I? We're both Canucks, eh?" he said with his perfect smile. He leaned down, his mouth near her ear, his scent overpowering her. "Besides, what does it matter? It worked." Standing up straight, he turned and left, following Roy and Digg through the crowd, and leaving Felicity quite perplexed. Both on Oliver Queen and herself.

* * *

It was the start of the third period in their match against Norway and they were up 3-1. Oliver Queen stood at the edge of the rink in a huddle with his team. He was chugging some water, listening to their coach's pep talk when Roy nudged him and saw him nodding toward the stands. Following the shorter man's gaze, he recognized a blonde ponytail and glasses.

He grinned without realizing; he didn't know why but seeing Felicity in the stands at his game made him happy. Even though she drove him mad most of the time, ever since she pushed him down in their ice skating lessons years ago.

"I wonder why she's here," he wondered aloud, not taking his eyes from her.

"Why'd you go to her event?" Digg asked from beside him. The defenseman was far too logical in Oliver's opinion.

"What? She's going to teach me how to improve my game?" he retorted with a smirk.

"Focus, boys!" Coach roared at them. "Just hold them for twenty minutes! Queen! I want to see some clean passes from you. YOU control this game! Use Harper to your advantage; they overlook him 'cause he's tiny."

"Coach!" Roy said indignantly

"Knock a few in and I'll apologize. Digg! Nothing gets by you and Hawkins! Nothing!" their coach continued. "Let's get 'em, boys!"

The three skated onto the ice for the final face off. Before breaking off to his position, Roy turned to Oliver and said, "You should really man up after the game with Felicity."

"What the hell does that mean?" Oliver asked Digg, who was still by his side.

"It means, my young Captain friend, that you have to do some sorting of your emotions." With those cryptic words, he skated toward their goal, leaving a confused Oliver to take the face off with Norway.

* * *

Felicity had been gone after the match against Norway. Oliver hadn't been able to find her anywhere in the crowd. No congratulations for their massive victory. Roy had even gotten his apology from Coach, but no 'good game' from the little blonde figure skater.

He tried not to let it bother him, that she left the arena without a word, but it kept springing up in his mind at the most inconvenient times. Like when a 250 pound Austrian defenseman was careening toward him like a bull with a hockey stick.

Oliver skated to his team's bench, grabbing a water bottle as he sat down.

"Rest up quick, Queen," his coach said to him over his shoulder. "You're going back in three minutes."

Oliver glanced at the clock – less than ten minutes of play time in the game. They were only up by two and a lot can happen in ten minutes. Tilting his water bottle back, Oliver's eyes wandered the crowd idly. He frowned suddenly, noticing a familiar blonde head across the stands. He grinned. Now he knew they were going to win.

The final minutes were brutal, the refs letting far too many penalties go as the Austrian team grew more aggressive in their desperation.

Canada had won though, and they had earned it.

Oliver was walking out of the locker room, laughing with Digg and Roy when he saw her. She was leaning against the wall, arms folded under her breasts as she waited for him. She looked insufferably adorable in her jeans and sweatshirt. He nodded to the others, indicating he'd meet them at the hotel, and walked to meet Felicity.

"You played well," she said without preamble.

"Today or yesterday?" he asked. He smiled as he saw her eyes widen slightly. She hadn't known he'd seen her yesterday. For some reason, Oliver felt a mental high-five was in order.

Felicity lips quirked in the faintest of smiles as she regained her composure. She had always been able to hold her own, even when they were kids and all the big boys thought they could out-skate her because they were bigger or older. Even at seven years old, she'd simply smile at them, before executing a perfect double axel and stopping on a dime in front of the would-be bullies. Growing up, it was one of the few things Oliver had actually admired about her.

"Both, I supposed," she answered. "But, you know, if you made your spins around the defense tighter, you could execute more efficient passes to your wingers." She paused for the briefest second before abruptly turning and striding down the hall.

Oliver watched her leave, completely dumbfounded.

* * *

It was the day of the figure skating finals for the short dance. Her last competition of the Olympics. Felicity skated onto the ice, head held high. She was confident, poised, rested. She had this. This was _her_ event.

Scanning the crowd absentmindedly while waiting for her musical cue, Felicity noticed a district dirty blonde head in the stands, surprisingly not flanked by Roy or Digg. She smiled, pleased to see him.

Though they hadn't talked to him since his match against Austria, she had seen Oliver at her previous events, and she had gone to his other games. Felicity didn't know _why_ she went to his hockey matches, but she always found herself in the stands shortly after the face off. And she knew he had seen her each time she was in the stands. She still wondered why he was coming to her figure skating events. He had never shown _any_ interest in _any_ figure skating competition before. Why now? And beyond that, why was she feeling satisfied and nearly thrilled to see him in the stands?

The music began and Felicity focused on the beat and rhythm, the routine filling her mind.

How she had placed in her first Olympics, she couldn't fathom, but the silver medal hanging around her neck felt marvelous. Most competitors would probably be disappointed to not get gold. Felicity was happy to have just made it past the preliminaries. The figure skater from Japan had been phenomenal. Felicity was ecstatic with her silver. And she had four more years to train. 2018 would bring her gold.

She skated off the rink, the bouquet of flowers in her hands, the medal around her neck, the cheers buzzing in her ears. Someone had draped a Canadian flag around her as she walked past. Escaping to a quiet hallway, Felicity leaned against the wall, processing the past ten minutes. She was an Olympic medalist. Not just an Olympic athlete; and Olympic _medalist_. She pinched herself; this had to be a dream.

"Congratulations," said a low voice in her ear. She turned to see Oliver beside her. Even in her skates, he stood inches over her. The fact should bother her as it always did, but it didn't. It shouldn't make her heart pound in her chest, but it did.

How he had found her in this lonely hallway was a mystery, but he handed her a single rose. Felicity eyed the rose, then him. It was something he would have had to buy before the event started.

"Was this going to be a consolatory rose if I hadn't medaled?" she questioned, her head cocking to one side.

"No," he answered simply, and Felicity knew it was the truth.

"How did you know?" she couldn't help but asking, slightly bewildered at this entire interaction.

Oliver leaned down toward, very much like at the preliminaries, but this time his mouth was much closer to her ear. She could feel his breath tickle her skin as he spoke. Her heart was much too loud in her head. "I believe in you," he whispered. His lips pressed to her cheek for a moment that made her breath catch in her chest before he straightened and disappeared down the hall.

Felicity stood, her hand to the cheek his lips had just touched, trying in vain to comprehend this recent interaction.

* * *

She hadn't exactly planned on coming, but she knew she would, if simply to be a good Canadian and support her country. She had purposely arrived late though, very late, to keep him wondering. Perhaps that was cruel, when he was about to play for the gold against Russia. But who kisses someone's cheek and just _walks_ away without a word? Especially when you've never been on the best of terms (to put it nicely) with that person in the two decades you've known her.

Boys were so weird.

Even having arrived so late to the match, Felicity somehow ended up sitting rink side, very close to the Canadian box. She could see Roy sitting on the bench, wiping sweat from under his helmet. There was no way Oliver wouldn't notice her, sitting in the first row less than five yards from his team's box. Felicity blamed the silver medal for the prime seating, and coming to the match with half a dozen Olympians.

She didn't have time to ponder or worry about her seating or Oliver seeing her from the ice. The first period was half over, still tied at nothing and the Russians had just stolen the puck from one of the wingers. Felicity was completely engrossed in hockey in moments.

The game was intense. Russia was always a contentious team, frequently toeing the line between normal sporting competition aggressions and nearly pommelling the other team. The refs were letting fouls go left and right. It was like no holds barred hockey. Felicity hadn't been this excited or anxious at a hockey game in years.

She wouldn't deny (to herself, at least) part of the excitement she felt was due to watching Oliver skate. He really was very talented on the ice. She smiled broadly when she noticed he had taken her advice on turning around the defense; he had earned three assists this game (two to Roy and one to Stevens) and had at least doubled the shots on goal.

Every goal Canada scored, however, was answered by the Russian offense. Digg was taking a pounding from their wingers. Felicity felt so bad she actually walked over to Oliver when he was in the box. Tapping on the plastic divider to get his attention, she told him, "Remind your defense to brace lower when they stop the wingers. They're center of gravity will drop and they won't fly as easily." She left before he could reply, but the look of surprise, gratitude, and astonishment had her blushing before she reached her seat.

The final moments were the most nerve-wracking in Felicity's spectator life. The game was tied at five and Canada had the puck. Digg fed it to Oliver, who passed it back to Hawkins to shoot it along the boards for Oliver to grab on a give-in-go maneuver. The clock was ticking down to the last few minutes as Oliver dropped the puck to an open Roy – he was small but damn quick – right in front of the goal. Roy shot, the puck deflected back to him by the goalie's stick, shot again to have it knocked back awkwardly behind him. It seemed the Russian defense was going to send the puck back across the blue line when Oliver skated behind the goal and, making a tight around the goal post and a defenseman, hit the puck beneath the Russian goalie's glove.

The arena erupted in noise, half in screams of excitement at the Canadian lead, half in disappointing uproar at the Russians trailing. Felicity clapped and cheered with the countrymen, but her eyes were on Oliver as he skated in a cluster with his team, jumping in elation at taking the lead. Oliver's gaze found her from the center of the ice and he beamed at her, mouthing _you did that_, and she returned his smile warmly.

Glancing at the clock, Felicity saw there was twenty-seven seconds left to the final period. All Canada had to do was hold Russia for twenty-seven seconds. A task similar to wrestling a bear for twenty-seven seconds.

Oliver took the face off. With adrenaline coursing through his veins like steroids, he easily knocked the Russian off his skates and secured control of the puck. He passed to Roy, who passed around the boards to Stevens, who simply held the puck against the wall to run out the time. Oliver and Roy skated to their fellow forward to help keep the Russians from gaining possession, to help keep Stevens from being beaten.

When the final seconds ran out and the buzzer rang for the end of the match, pandemonium broke out around the entire arena. Red and white jerseys flooded the ice, gloves, sticks and helmets flying through the air in celebration. Where Oliver, Roy and Stevens had been there was nothing but a mob of red and white and flailing hands. The coaches were buried in there somewhere, too.

A Canadian flag materialized on the ice and Digg was skating around, waving it to the stands, handing it to his captain, the scorer of the winning goal, his best friend. Oliver glided the perimeter of the rink, flag held high over his head. When he saw her in the stands as he skated by, cheering with her teammates, he paused, passing the flag off to Roy. Eyes not leaving hers, Oliver made his way into the stands and along the row. Canadians clapped him on the back and shouted their congratulations to him, but he didn't hear. His gaze never wavered from Felicity's.

She looked up at Oliver, wondering what he was doing, coming to her in the stands. He towered over her in his skates and in his pads he was an imposing figure. His hair hung on his forehead, wet and dark with sweat, his cheeks red with cold and excitement. He stood over her for the briefest moment, and before she could process anything, his hands were in her hair and cupping her face and his lips were on hers and Felicity wasn't sure of there were fireworks in the arena or just in her mind.

Everything around Felicity faded, the roar of the stand, the press of the crowd. Her senses consisted solely of the thudding of her heart, the feel of Oliver's hands and lips. It didn't matter that thousands of people in the stands could see them (they actually might be the reason the cheering had increased), or that millions more were watching around world. It didn't matter that there were dozens of photographers snapping shots of them as they kissed and before nightfall their embrace would be plastered around the internet (how long would it take this to be a trending topic?). All that mattered was this was the most intoxicating kiss Felicity had ever received.

They broke apart, both breathing heavily. "You're remarkable," Oliver said simply.

Felicity smiled after him as Oliver made his way back to the rink, his coaches and the Olympic officials calling him back to present the medals and take a team photo. There would be time for them after the ceremony. She would wait.

Suddenly Felicity was wishing the hockey team was in the same hotel as her.

* * *

**I spent a lot of time on Google this prompt. **

**I went with silver over bronze because team Canada got silver in figure skating.**

**As always, please leave a review with your thoughts. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Kinda prompt. Kinda sequel. Wholly olicity.**

* * *

Felicity sat on her bed in her pajamas. Oliver had returned to his hotel half an hour ago after dropping her off at her door, including a very lengthy good-bye kiss to which she did not object.

She was watching the news coverage of the Olympics. She didn't know what station this channel was, what time zone they were broadcasting for, or even what time zone they were broadcasting from. All she knew is they were reporting more on her and Oliver's kiss than either of their medals. Or anyone else's medals and events.

This station had a scrolling banner of people tweeting on the current story or to the newscasters directly. Apparently their kiss (#OlympicMakeOut) was the fastest rising trending topic in Twitter history.

And #Sochi2014 dropped out of the top three.

_Wonderful_, she thought sardonically as she glared at the television.

There was a knock at her door. She opened it to find Oliver standing there looking somewhat sheepish. "Hey," he said quietly with a small curve to his lips.

"Hey," she replied with a smile, swinging the door wider for him. She was thankful her room was one where the doorknob stayed attached to the door. And her curtains to the wall. Not that they would need the windows covered, it was just…handy.

"Watching the Olympics?" Oliver asked with an amused smile as he draped his jacket over one of the room's chairs. Felicity almost wished he'd kept his jacket on; the shirt he wore fit him _very_ well and it was more than a little distracting.

"I was trying to find out how everyone else did today," she explained, taking a seat at the edge of her bed, "but they never get anywhere, because every few minutes they go back to this!" She gestured annoyingly at the television.

Oliver watched the screen for a moment, just as a tweet from "Dirk Johnson" popped up on the screen: _He totally used tongue. Get it Queen! #OlympicMakeOut " CaptainQueen Felicity_Smoak_

"Oh," was all Oliver said. That was really all you could say when you find out you kissing a girl is a trending topic. And, oh dear, her parents were going to see this!

"Yeah," she agreed. Her eyes moved from the television to Oliver. "Pretty glad I blocked notification from people I don't follow now. My phone would be blowing up otherwise. It hasn't stopped from people I _do_ know."

"That explains why my phone won't shut up," he muttered, pulling his iPhone from his pocket.

Smiling at him, Felicity held out her hand to fix his Twitter app settings.

"Thanks," he said, sitting beside her on the bed. "That's kinda why I came over."

"So I can fix your phone?" she teased, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "Pretty sure Digg or Roy could have helped you out."

"No, about the… about our kiss," he elaborated nervously, taking his phone back from her.

"Oh," Felicity said, eyebrows rising in surprise. "Yeah. Okay." How do people respond to things like this? _Just relax, be normal,_ she told herself. _What _is_ normal? Today I won a silver medal in the Olympics, then made out with the captain of an Olympic hockey team on international television. I have no definition of normal._

Staring at his hands, Oliver began, "I was in my hotel and started thinking-"

"Never a good sigh," she broke in with a smile.

His eyes turned to hers, mirroring her smile. Felicity never realized how much she liked Oliver looking at her until now. "But I got to thinking that maybe this was a 'what-happens-in-Russia' thing and I… I don't want it to be that," he finished looking at her seriously.

Felicity inhaled quickly, staring into his eyes. He was being sincere; she could read the honesty in his gaze. Her mind was suddenly void of everything but his blue-green eyes as he watched her. Felicity knew in that moment she wanted to stare into those eyes for years to come. "I don't want that, either," she told him softly.

She leaned in, a hand going to his face, her lips pressing to his, and it was as fantastic as the hockey rink, as wonderful as when he dropped her off at her door. His calloused hand came to her face, his thumb caressing her cheek as her mouth opened under his and the kiss deepened.

Felicity's hand moved to the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair. Leaning back to the bed, she pulled Oliver with her, lips never leaving his, never breaking the kiss. Her heart pounded in her chest as his finger toyed with a strand of her hair and his free hand moved along her waist. His fingers brushed against her bare skin and arousal flooded her body.

"Hey, Felicity!" a voice called from the other room. "There's this video that went viral from the men's hockey game," the connecting door between the two rooms swung in and an athletic blonde walked through, "and it really looks like you're making out with Oliver Queen!" She stopped suddenly, looking up from her tablet and staring at the two sitting rigidly on the bed. Felicity could sense how disheveled her hair must look. "Oh," snowboarder Sara Lance said slowly, taking in the scene. "I guess it is you in the video."

"Hello, Sara," Oliver said. "Congrats on your prelims. You ride again tomorrow?"

"Yeah…" Sara answered, looking from Oliver to Felicity. Felicity could see her asking what she wanted her to do. "Final run for the halfpipe. For the gold, you know." Felicity glared at her. _Go away. I love you, but go away._ "Then I have slopstyle in a few days. Congrats on your win! Great match, really intense."

"Felicity was actually really helpful with our game against Russia," Oliver said, looking at her with a fond smile, placing a hand over hers as it rested on her knee. "And even in the semifinals before that."

Sara's eyes darted to Felicity's again, eyes widening and eyebrows lifting. "Okay," she said loudly, looking between Oliver and her friend. She pressed her lips together and Felicity knew Sara was fighting a smile. "Well. It was great catching up! 'Night!"

Oliver turned to Felicity as Sara left between their adjoining doors. He looked completely perplexed as Felicity stared back as innocently as possible.

"Best friend," she explained when the door shut. "We don't lock the doors. Cause we're best friends."

Oliver nodded. "Are you going to lock it tonight?" he asked softly, the most hesitant she had ever seen him. He hadn't even looked this nervous trying out for the national team. Not even starting his first game for the national team. Oliver Queen had never, in her memory, been nervous.

Felicity stared at him. She could feel her heart thudding throughout her body, butterflies flapping madly in her stomach. Silently, she stood and walked to the door, turning the deadbolt.


End file.
